


Under a Wandering Star

by iam93percentstardust



Series: Arranged [5]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alpha Bucky Barnes, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Alternate Universe - Western, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Implied Mpreg, Lust at First Sight, M/M, Omega Tony Stark, Only aesthetic, There is no historical accuracy to be found here
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-08
Updated: 2020-12-08
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:08:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27957410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iam93percentstardust/pseuds/iam93percentstardust
Summary: In the days following the Confederate surrender at Appomattox, Bucky Barnes packs his bags and heads west to his father's ranch. Three years later, Tony Stark, laden with his father's debts and unable to find a new business partner, accepts Bucky's offer to wed in return for his debts to be paid off. Excited for what he thinks will be the adventure of a lifetime, Tony hops on a train heading west. But this lawless country is different than what he expected and it isn't adventure that Tony ends up finding - but love.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Tony Stark, Sharon Carter & Tony Stark, Sharon Carter/Steve Rogers
Series: Arranged [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1843213
Comments: 27
Kudos: 399
Collections: Tony Stark Bingo Mark IV





	Under a Wandering Star

**Author's Note:**

> In case you missed the tag, there is no historical accuracy in this story (maybe a little but I didn't set out to write it and I definitely didn't do any research so all historical accuracy is accidental). This is a Western purely for the sake of the aesthetic.
> 
> Title is taken from the song of the same name from Paint Your Wagon
> 
> Title: Under a Wandering Star  
> Collaborator: iam93percentstardust  
> Card Number: 4012  
> Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27957410  
> Square Filled: A4 - AU: Western  
> Ship: Winteriron  
> Rating: E  
> Major Tags: A/B/O Dynamics, Explicit Sexual Content  
> Summary: In the days following the Confederate surrender at Appomattox, Bucky Barnes packs his bags and heads west to his father's ranch. Three years later, Tony Stark, laden with his father's debts and unable to find a new business partner, accepts Bucky's offer to wed in return for his debts to be paid off. Excited for what he thinks will be the adventure of a lifetime, Tony hops on a train heading west. But this lawless country is different than what he expected and it isn't adventure that Tony ends up finding - but love.  
> Word Count: 16448

The day Bucky comes home from the war is the day he packs his bags for the West.

Natasha watches him pack, leaning up against the doorpost of his bedroom. If she were anyone else, it would be scandalous to have her in his bedroom, an omega and a woman besides that. But this is Natasha and Natasha has never once hidden the fact that she refuses to let society dictate what she can and cannot do. Natasha Romanoff travelled all the way from Russia for a better life. She helped fight in the war. She’ll be damned if she lets anyone tell her she can’t stand in her friend’s bedroom.

He suspects it probably helps that she isn’t one of those poor society omegas, doomed to spending their lives looking pretty and popping out babies. Nah, Natasha’s poor as dirt, same as him, same as Clint, same as Steve, and people tend to care a lot less about what some omega is doing when they’re busy starving.

“Are you sure about this?” she asks him quietly.

Bucky pauses in stuffing another shirt into a trunk but only for a moment. When he closes his eyes, he can still picture the boy stuffed into his cell only three days before the surrender at Appomattox, the one stinking of sickness, sweating in the April heat, the one who died hours before their release. He remembers the doctor who took his arm, everything below the shoulder, the one who had leered at him, mocking him for letting himself get captured. He hears the screams of the wounded, the slowly dying, because heaven forbid the rebs show the mercy they’d show an ant.

He’s making the right decision.

He’d come back to the city, taken one step into the street ringing with the sounds of people yelling at each other from windows, one step into his building packed too full of people, and decided he couldn’t do it anymore. He’d been given an out, he’ll be damned if he lets the possibility pass him by.

“Ranch needs someone to look after it,” he says gruffly. “Might as well be me.”

“Your father had workers to do that for him,” Natasha points out. “One of them had to have sent you that letter. Can’t they take care of it?” He can practically feel her stare gentling where she’s looking at his shoulder, smoothing out into pity instead of judgment. “Bucky, what’s this really about?”

When he closes his eyes, he can see the feverish look in that boy’s eyes as he asked Bucky to tell his parents. He doesn’t even know the boy’s name, doesn’t even know where he’s from. For all he knows, the boy’s parents could be dead. They could be long gone from where they lived when the boy left home to fight.

…They could be sitting by the door, waiting for news of their beloved son who will never come home.

He thinks about Steve. He doesn’t even know if Steve survived the battle that cost Bucky his arm and his freedom. Natasha and Clint had served in a different unit, an omega-friendly one that was sent home a few weeks before Bucky had been taken prisoner; they’re not sure what happened to Steve either. He knows soldiers are still coming home, knows a couple companies have been kept back to help in the rebuilding efforts, knows Steve could be alive and perfectly well. All he needs to have is hope that Steve made it through the devastation the rest of their company went through.

He lost his hope when he was marched through the gates of Andersonville.

Natasha is still waiting for an answer, he knows. He knows too that he’ll never be able to put it in a way that she’ll understand because she wasn’t there with him. She doesn’t know the horrors he went through, doesn’t know what it means to breathe in the sickness, the unwashed stench, the tangible hopelessness of thousands of Union soldiers packed into a prison too small for them.

“It’s gotta be me,” he says instead because there’s a lot of things he’d do but laying the weight of those memories on one of his closest friends isn’t one of them. “Just feels right.”

“Right,” Natasha repeats and the doubt in her voice tells him that he’s right. She doesn’t understand. Good. He doesn’t want her to. The very thought of Natasha knowing about, _understanding,_ the things that happened to him turns his stomach. Natasha can handle so many things but just because she can doesn’t mean she should have to.

“Leave him be, Natasha,” Clint’s mid-western drawl comes from the hallway where he’s labelling Bucky’s other trunk.

“I am worried,” she argues and that’s plain enough to hear. Her accent gets a whole lot thicker when she’s concerned. “This is such a hasty decision. I want to make sure he thinks it through.”

He appreciates her concern and, in many ways, it’s perfectly valid. Bucky had known within a few minutes of setting foot in the city that he needed to get out but it hadn’t been until he’d come home and found the letter from the man managing his father’s ranch about his father’s death and the ranch being left to him that he’d made a decision about _where_ he was going to go for his escape. It’s only been a few hours since then; he can understand her worry. He just thinks it’s unnecessary.

“I’ve thought it through,” he assures her.

She scoffs.

“I _have_.” He drops one of Steve’s notebooks back on the nightstand—doesn’t feel right taking them from New York even though it had been a gift to him a few years ago—and crosses the room to pull her into a hug. “It’s not like you’ll never hear from me. I’ll write, you know I will.”

“But you’re not coming back.”

He can’t tell her that, just as he can’t promise that he _will_ return. He doesn’t know what he’s going to do, doesn’t know if this trip west will be exactly what he needs or if he’ll get all the way out there and realize it was a mistake. But he won’t know if he doesn’t go—and he knows that he needs to do that at least.

“I’ll write,” he says again and her lips purse. “It’ll be fine, I promise.”

* * *

_Three Years Later_

The day Tony buries Jarvis is the day he realizes just how monumentally _screwed_ he is.

As he lets himself back into the house, emptier and darker than it’s been in a very long time, he has the thought that he wishes he hadn’t shoved Obadiah out of the company. It’s a fleeting thought though, there and gone almost before he can even register that it had crossed his mind. He’d had good reasons for getting Obadiah away from him: the mysterious circumstances of his parents’ deaths despite the police finding nothing, the shipments of Stark weapons going missing only to turn up in the hands of the rebels, Obadiah’s looming threat of bonding his layabout, miserable son to the wealthy Stark heir. Oh yes, he’d had plenty of reasons for secretly filing the paperwork to make one Edwin Jarvis his legal guardian.

His years with Jarvis had been the best years of his life. Society omegas have been expected to have guardians to take care of them and make their decisions for them—as though they can’t take care of themselves and yet, just about every other omega can? “Society loves a double standard,” Jarvis had told him when he’d complained about it—but Jarvis had never done anything that a guardian was supposed to. Other than offering advice and making sure Tony didn’t blow himself up when he tinkered with their guns’ firing mechanisms, he’d left Tony up to his own devices. He’d said that Tony knew more about the company than he ever would so why should he be the one in charge?

But Jarvis is gone now and Tony is alone, apparently the one thing a society omega must never be allowed to be.

He’d woken up this morning to letters mounting up on his dining table from business partners who were perfectly content to work with him when they thought he had a beta controlling him but are all saying the same thing now: “We’re very sorry to hear about your loss, Mr. Stark. We hope you can understand that we’ll have to cut the ties between our companies. Should you find yourself with a new guardian or alpha, we hope you’ll think of us again.”

And at the bottom of the pile, a letter from one Obadiah Stane, sneering and mocking in its tone, and offering again the option of Tony tying himself to Ezekiel Stane. The very thought makes Tony shudder. No thank you, he’d rather tie himself to the train tracks leading out of town. It’s safer than marrying into the Stane family.

This shouldn’t be this hard, he decides bitterly. It shouldn’t be so hard for him to keep the company afloat. He’s clearly proven himself a shrewd and capable businessman and he knows perfectly well, as does just about everyone else in the North, that he’s the best damn weapons inventor in the whole country. He shouldn’t be forced to scramble for investors and business partners with access to raw materials just because of a quirk of biology. He shouldn’t be staring thousands of dollars in debt in the face just because _Howard_ was such a terrible businessman that he took out loans to keep the company running when _he_ was in charge.

Tony has been paying off those loans slowly but surely since he took over six years ago but now he’s stuck with no way to pay off the remainder unless he either manages to find someone willing to do business with an omega—unlikely—or sacrifices his beliefs and freedom to get married—so damn unlikely, hell might as well freeze over first.

The next debt payment comes due in only a few short days. Tony has enough to pay off this one but nearly all of his profits each month go to pay Howard’s debts. Next month, if he’s not able to find someone who’ll work with him, he won’t be able to make the payment. And who knows what’ll happen then? Howard had needed a lot of money and the kind of lenders who will lend thousands of dollars aren’t the kind who would be willing to forgive him for being late on a payment. No, they’re the kind who will take their pound out of his flesh or worse.

He looks again at the stack of letters from his ex-business partners and swallows hard. Tony had had a lot of partners, people who could help him with raw materials and distribution and sales. He doesn’t know of anyone else out there but surely there must be someone. _Someone_ must be willing to work with an un-chaperoned, unmarried omega. After all, there are plenty of omegas out there who aren’t as high status as Tony is owning businesses. Just because he can’t immediately think of any doesn’t mean they’re not out there.

In the meantime, he’ll see if Natasha has any ideas. She has a level head on her shoulders, always bringing him and Clint out of the clouds. She might have an idea for how he can solve his debt and guardianship problems all in one blow.

Not for the first time, he sends a prayer to the heavens for guiding him to Natasha and Clint. It had been three years ago. He’d been at a dinner with a friend he’d known from his boyhood days, Dr. Bruce Banner, who was in the process of courting a young omega who had come to him for a cold, taken one look at him, and declared she would find herself a different doctor because she was one day going to bond with this one. When hearing the story, Tony had been startled by the omega’s boldness but eager to meet her. The omegas he had grown up with would have never done something like that though it did sound like something he himself would do. They’d met at dinner that night and ended up as close as two peas in a pod. Natasha had become one of his only friends left in the city now that Rhodey and Pepper had moved to a smaller community in the country.

Yes, he decides, Natasha will know what to do. She always does. He smiles to himself, reassured that things are going to work out just fine, and goes about sending a message to her to ask if she, Bruce, and Clint would like to come over for dinner.

* * *

“Ah,” Natasha says carefully. “Hmm.”

Yep, so reassuring.

Not for the first time, and he suspects not for the last either, Tony wishes Jarvis was here with him. Jarvis had always been more of a parent to him than either of the two that he’d actually had. He had always had the best advice and a warm hug to offer and when he hadn’t had those, he had always had a warm cookie straight from the oven to give him instead.

“This is a problem,” Natasha admits.

“Thanks for that,” he says waspishly, his worry making him more snappish than he would ordinarily be. “I had no idea.”

She shoots him a sharp glare. He glares back at her for a long moment until she finally glances away, backing down. He’s so startled by her concession that he forgets to be irritated for a moment. Natasha almost never backs down from a challenge. Either she’s really worried about him or he’s in direr straits than he thought, not that one option is any better than the other. They’re both terrible.

“We could help for a few months,” Bruce says into the silence. He takes his glasses off, wipes them on his shirt the way he always does when he’s thinking. “But we wouldn’t be able to help long-term.”

“With the debts or my guardianship?” Tony asks gloomily.

“The debts. Ah—we won’t be able to help with your guardianship. We—”

“We bonded last week,” Natasha says impatiently.

It takes a moment and then the words sink into the thick sludge that is his brain at the moment. His head snaps up just as Clint exclaims, “You _bonded?_ ”

Natasha tugs the collar down of his blouse so they can both see the silvering bite mark on her neck. The expression on her face is proud, smug, and why shouldn’t she be? Everyone knows she’s been trying to talk Bruce into bonding for three years. That she’s finally managed it is absolutely wonderful for the couple…

And it’s terrible for _Tony_.

His head thunks back down onto the table and he groans. Clint makes a sympathetic noise and reaches over to rub comforting circles on his back. He can hear the rustle of clothing as Natasha fixes the neckline of her blouse and then she too is gently patting his arm in an attempt at raising his spirits.

“Sorry, Tony,” Bruce says contritely. “If we’d known, we would have waited.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” he mutters into the grain of the wood. “You can’t wait forever. I wouldn’t want to stop you two crazy kids from getting married.”

“Tony,” Natasha says disapprovingly. He thinks she’s going to say something about him thinking he’ll be alone forever but then she continues, “You’re only two years older than I am.”

He tilts his head up and scowls at her.

She amends the sentence to, “And you’ll find someone one day.”

He groans again and rubs his forehead into the table. It shouldn’t sound like such an afterthought and the truth is, he doesn’t even know if he _wants_ to bond one day. He certainly doesn’t want society demanding it out of him. But it’s nice to be reassured that he’s a catch and alphas should be lining up for the chance to bond with him. He’s handsome enough and he’s intelligent and he comes with a dowry the size of the largest company on the East Coast.

“It’s not fair,” he laments. “Why can’t you two be my guardians even if you _are_ bonded?”

“Because we’re supposed to be focused on popping out babies instead of taking care of you,” Natasha says drily.

“Hmph.”

“Hold on, why _can’t_ you get married?” Clint says suddenly. All three of them turn to give him matching incredulous looks. “I mean it! You need either a guardian or an alpha to keep your business partners. I can’t do it because I’m an omega. Natasha and Bruce can’t do it because they’re bonded. You don’t know anyone who could be your guardian on short notice but why can’t you get married? You’re Tony Stark. Anyone would be biting at the bit to marry you.”

“And you don’t think that’s a problem?” Natasha demands. “You don’t think Tony wants someone who doesn’t care about his name?”

“Or that he comes with a company?” Bruce adds.

“Or that I don’t even think I want to _keep_ the company,” Tony says softly. Three heads whip around to stare at _him_ now. He sighs deeply. “I haven’t told anyone other than Jarvis. Obadiah was stealing weapons, selling them to the South. I saw young soldiers killed by the very weapons I created to defend them and protect them. And I—I can’t do that anymore. I can’t let myself be okay with zero accountability. I told myself I’d keep the company running until I paid off Howard’s debts and then I was going to take apart the whole thing.”

For a moment, there’s silence in the room.

“Wait,” Clint says eventually. “That’s all you need the company for? If we found a way to solve the money problem without caring about the company, you’d be okay?”

“Yes, but—”

“I have an idea,” Clint interrupts him.

“An idea,” Tony repeats doubtfully. The last time Clint an idea, Tony had ended up so drunk, he’d wandered straight into the Hudson. Natasha had had to fish him out.

“A _good_ idea,” Clint clarifies. Somehow, that doesn’t fill him with confidence.

Even Natasha, who has known Clint for years, looks dubious. “Are you sure it’s a good idea?”

“Bucky.”

Tony isn’t entirely certain what that’s supposed to mean but Natasha’s face clears right away. She turns back to Tony. “Clint has a good idea,” she tells him.

He arches a doubting eyebrow at her. She smiles primly back at him. “Bucky Barnes,” she explains. “Old friend of ours, traveled west before we met you—”

“—on account of his injuries,” Clint cuts in.

Natasha winces sympathetically. “Among other things, we think. He was captured by the rebs during the war. Held prisoner until the surrender at Appomattox. Bucky’s been recovering out west at his father’s farm, who passed during the war. He has a large ranch, several herds of cattle, makes himself enough money to help you with your debts…and he’s looking for an omega. Apparently, the nearby settlers disapprove of his bachelor lifestyle and he wants to make nice with them but he doesn’t want an omega who doesn’t know what they’re getting themselves into.”

“And you think I’m a good choice?”

She laughs but it isn’t mean. “I think you’re a terrible choice. You’ll do nothing but scandalize those old settlers. But—and this is the important part—he’s the kind of alpha who’d be willing to pay off those debts of yours and you’re the kind of omega who won’t mind he’s down an arm.”

* * *

He really doesn’t see any other option. He could hold out against the moneylenders for another couple months with Bruce and Natasha’s aid but it’s not a sustainable option, not when he still owes so much and would be taking a significant portion of their income every single month. Eventually, they’d run out and Tony would be back where he started: facing down bonding to an alpha he doesn’t want or trying to find someone— _anyone_ —who’ll become business partners with a society omega.

But Bucky—

Tony cringes every time he thinks of the name. Who names their child _Bucky?_ For heaven’s sake, Buchanan wasn’t even that good of a president. In fact, he was a frankly terrible one.

“His parents weren’t Southern sympathizers, were they?” he asks Natasha one day about a week after Clint comes up with the plan to marry him off.

“I wouldn’t know,” she says. “His mother died long before I came to this country and his father abandoned them when he was a baby. Bucky isn’t a sympathizer though.”

And that’s somewhat reassuring, though still less so considering it’s Bucky’s father’s ranch that he’s taken over…

Bucky writes them back a few weeks after Natasha sends him the letter informing him that they had found him an omega. In it, there’s a letter for Natasha, one for Clint, one for Tony, _and_ enough money to pay off all of Tony’s debts all at one time. That, more than anything else, convinces him that this is a good idea. Natasha had assured him that Bucky wouldn’t expect husbandly duties from him, leastways not for a long time yet, but he had still had trouble believing that anyone would be willing to pay his debts and not expect some sort of compensation for it.

Tony takes one look at the money and turns to Natasha. “ _How_ rich did you say he was?” he asks her.

She looks back down at the money, stunned herself. “I didn’t realize it was this much.”

The next day, Tony goes around to each and every one of the lenders and pays them off, plus a little extra to buy their silence. The police are as corrupt as the moneylenders in this city. It doesn’t take much of a stretch of the imagination to picture the lenders going to the police and telling them that he stole the money. He wouldn’t fare well in prison and he certainly doesn’t have enough money to bribe the police into letting him go.

He packs up everything he’ll be bringing with him. The rest either goes into storage or is left at his home, which was fully paid off and left to him by Jarvis. No one can take that away from him so he’s decided to keep it in case he and his future husband ever decide to return to New York though he doubts they will. From Bucky’s letter, he thinks that the alpha is more than content at his ranch home. As for Tony, well, he’s always longed for adventure and to hear the newspapers tell it, there’s no adventure bigger than that found in the Wild West.

So that’s how he ends up here at the train station, only a month after Natasha sends Bucky the letter telling him about Tony. He’s only brought as much as he can carry. The rest of his things will be sent on after him but for now, it’s just Tony himself.

He checks the station clock yet again, then his watch, and sighs. The station clock is two minutes slow, which is frustrating because that means the train is running two minutes slow and _that_ means it’ll take Tony even _longer_ to get to his grand adventure.

He supposes he should be grateful for the reprieve. He’s in no hurry to get to his intended. Despite the reassurances of Natasha, Clint, and Bucky himself, he’s still having trouble believing that Bucky is okay with only getting a husband in name out of this. People don’t just _do_ that where he comes from. There’s always the expectation that you’ll get _something_ out of it, whether that’s money or favors or…or a pretty little omega hanging off your arm.

But the rest of it—the thought of a ranch and horses and the grand mountains of the West, that more than makes up for the thought of marrying himself off.

The sharp whistle of a train sounds somewhere in the distance and Tony leaps to his feet, gathering up his things as the train pulls into the station. For a moment, he finds himself gaping at the engine. It’s _beautiful_ , coal black and powerful and oh, how has he never ridden on a train before? He hopes the engineers don’t mind him asking questions because he most certainly will do so and they’ll just have to deal with it. If people didn’t want him asking anything, they wouldn’t have invented the most marvelous way to travel across the country.

The conductor, in sleek red coat and top hat, steps off the train and onto the platform.

“All aboard for Charleston, St. Louis, and Faircreek!”

* * *

Faircreek, from what Tony can see standing on the small, entirely wooden platform, is a collection of several wooden buildings that could have come straight from a picture. He even holds up one of the old posters they used to use to entice miners out west that he’d brought with him and compares the picture on the poster to the town. Yep, not much of a difference at all. The saloon’s in a different place and there’s a hotel next to the general store that wasn’t on the poster and there’s a lot more grass than he was expecting for Texas but other than that, the picture could have been taken here.

He shields his eyes from the bright Texas sun, looking around interestedly. He was the only passenger to disembark the train at this station and Bucky isn’t here yet, so other than a bored teller sitting behind his booth at the other end of the station, he’s the only one on the platform. If it weren’t for the fact that Bucky told him he would be here, he’d step right down off this platform and go exploring. He looks around again, trying to spot a wagon or a carriage or something that would tell him he wasn’t forgotten.

But there’s nothing.

His heart sinks. He knew this was too good to be true, knew it like he knows the inner workings of a Stark rifle. There’s not an alpha out there who would accept a heavily indebted omega without laying eyes on them and now he’s stranded in the middle of nowhere without a penny to his name. He wonders if maybe the hotel will accept him as an employee long enough for him to raise the funds to send a message back to New York so he can tell Natasha what’s going on.

_Clip clop clip clip clop clip clop clip clip clop_

He raises his head at the sound of the odd gait. Who on earth would be using a horse with such an irregular gait? Tony doesn’t work much with horses—the Starks had had a carriage but despite his pleas, Jarvis had never let him drive it—but even he knows that such a horse is more likely to be lame and useless.

Tony scurries to the other end of the platform, wrinkling his nose as his movement kicks up a cloud of dust—the Wild West is much dirtier than he would like—to see who could possibly be riding such an odd horse. Surely it must be someone poor. Or eccentric. Or—

The most gorgeous alpha Tony has ever seen (and he’s seen a lot of gorgeous alphas) rides up on a beautiful chestnut horse that clearly has something wrong in its shoulder as it’s the one making the odd sound. Strangely, however, the horse doesn’t seem to be in any pain and so Tony turns his attention back to the alpha.

He’s _massive_ , tall and muscular with dark hair nearly hidden under one of those wide-brimmed hats Tony’s seen in the pictures. And, yes, he’s missing an arm but Tony is positively certain he’d still be able to pin him against the wall even with one hand. He pulls up next to Tony, blocking the sun, and now he can see glittering grey eyes and a beard that he just aches to feel between his legs.

“Hey there,” the alpha rumbles and _oh_ but he has the kind of voice that makes Tony weak in the knees. “I’m Bucky. And you, pretty thing, must be Tony.”

Tony is pretty sure he squeaks judging by the way Bucky breaks out into a broad grin. The alpha reaches down, extending a hand to him. “Come on, it’s a long ride back to the house.”

At the words, Tony shakes himself, looking hesitantly toward his bags. He hadn’t brought very many but even the ones he’d brought would be too much for the horse, even one as big as this one.

Bucky follows his gaze and makes a noise of understanding. “Natasha told me you were sending everything after you so I didn’t think we’d need the wagon. Tell you what, we’ll leave ‘em here tonight and I’ll send Stevie to pick ‘em up tomorrow when he comes into town.”

“And they won’t get stolen?” Tony asks.

Bucky laughs. “Nah. This is Faircreek, not New York.” He extends his hand again but Tony still hesitates, eyeing the horse dubiously.

“You sure he can take my weight?”

“Slight thing like you?”

That sounds like he’s calling Tony small and he won’t stand for that, no sir, no way. He glares first at Bucky and then pointedly looks at the horse’s injured shoulder.

“Ah,” Bucky says. He leans forward and pats the horse. “Red Star here was born like that but he’s fine. Promise you, he can take your weight and mine and probably your bags too if they weren’t so wide. _Now_ will you get on the horse?”

And that’s just rude. Tony has perfectly valid concerns but if Bucky is making complaints, then he figures now is not the time to point that out so he nods and primly grabs onto Bucky’s hand.

“Hold on,” Bucky tells him and then he _yanks_ , hauling Tony up onto the horse and settling him in the saddle.

Tony exhales sharply, completely surprised—and maybe a little turned on. It’s a remarkable display of strength and grace that Bucky just displayed, to be able to pull him up without overbalancing himself, and Tony can’t help but wonder where else Bucky might be able to use that strength. It’s then that he realizes that he’s not behind the alpha like he’d expected but in front of him.

“Bucky?” he asks, starting to turn.

“Don’t worry,” Bucky tells him. “I won’t let you fall.”

And that’s not his concern at all. His concern is that he’s sitting right in front of a gorgeous alpha who just demonstrated how very capable he is, which makes him a little squirmy and there will be no hiding that from Bucky when they’re seated like this. He stifles a whimper.

Long ride back to the house, indeed.

* * *

It’s dark by the time they reach the house, the late afternoon sun long since set. Tony gets the impression of a sprawling home made out of what looks like clay and that’s about it. He can hear the barking of a couple dogs somewhere in the yard but they must be chained up because the only thing that greets them when Bucky brings Red Star to a halt is someone opening the front door and stepping out onto the porch.

“Buck, that you?” the someone calls in a voice that’s low but clear.

“Sure is,” Bucky says. He swings down from the horse and then reaches up to help Tony down as well. His hands are warm and sure on Tony’s waist, big enough to span his rib cage. “Tony, come on up and meet my best man.”

He ushers Tony up the stairs onto the porch. In the light spilling out from the door, Tony can see another alpha, this one a little bigger than Bucky but with blond hair and blue eyes that make him look like the very picture of the American cowboy.

“It’s nice to meet you,” he says and holds out his hand. “I’m Tony.”

“Bucky’s omega, I remember,” the alpha says. He reaches out and enfolds Tony’s hand with both of us in a warm grip. “Steve Rogers. Known this troublemaker since we were kids, moved out West to help him out after he left the city.”

“Troublemaker?” Bucky scoffs. “If I remember correctly, _you_ were the one picking fights with every single kid bigger than us..”

“And you were the one picking a fight with the butcher,” Steve shoots back. He grins at Tony and then winks at him. “Just want you to know what you’re gettin’ yourself into.”

“He’s not gettin’ himself into nothing,” Bucky says good naturedly. He shoves Steve’s shoulder into the side of the door, snickering when Steve lets out a low _oomph_. Tony bites back a smile of his own. It’s clear that there’s a lot of love between these two. They remind him a lot of his own relationship with Rhodey. “He’s helping me out of a spot of trouble, just as I’m helping him. Don’t go giving him any ideas.”

“Don’t see why you couldn’t take care of it by telling the good people of Faircreek where to shove their concern,” Steve mutters but he holds up both hands in appeasement.

“You know why I couldn’t.” Bucky starts heading back down the porch stairs and into the darkness. “Tony’s room all set up?” he calls over his shoulder.

“Yep. You’re not gonna show him—” Steve starts and Bucky waves him off.

“Gotta take care of Red Star. You can show him up. Tony—” And he startles when he realizes that Bucky is talking to him, too caught up in the realization that he’s not sharing a room with Bucky. He has a room of his own. “Tomorrow morning, show you around the ranch first or talk marriage?”

“Oh. Um, marriage?” He won’t lie to himself, he’s anxious to know what the ranch looks like but the ranch isn’t actually why he’s here. He’s here to be a good omega, pay off his debts, and help Bucky get whoever it is off his back.

Bucky nods. “Right then. See you in the morning, Tony.”

“Good night,” he says softly, trying not to wrap his arms around his middle. “Bucky.”

He peers up at Steve after Bucky’s gone. From up close when he’s by himself, the alpha seems even bigger than he did earlier, reminding Tony just how far he is from New York and civilization. The West is a lot different than home, exciting yes, but also lawless and wild. He’d do well to remember that.

“I have my own room?” he asks after a moment.

“Sure do,” Steve says easily, standing aside to let him pass through the door. Tony’s too tired to really take in what the interior of the house looks like but he catches fleeting impressions of rich wooden furniture, wool blankets, and a stone fireplace that he’s sure will be absolutely amazing in the winter months. “Buck wasn’t sure if you’d want to stay with him before the marriage—or afterwards, for that matter—so he asked us to get a room ready for you.”

They head upstairs, Steve still chatting about Bucky and how excited they—meaning him and Bucky and all the other hands—are he’s come to stay. “Bucky’s a real sweetheart,” Steve says, opening a door at the end of the hallway. “He just takes some getting used to. This is you. Took the liberty of grabbing some clothes for you. Wasn’t sure what you’d be able to bring from the train.”

“Thank you,” Tony murmurs, suddenly exhausted. He slips by Steve into the room, taking in the absolutely gorgeous patchwork quilt on the bed, the soft-looking clothes laid out on the chest at the footboard, and the fluffy white cat laying on his pillow.

“And that’s Alpine,” Steve says, nodding at the cat. “Hope you’re not allergic cause once she’s down for the night, she ain’t gettin’ back up.”

“I’m not allergic,” Tony says, holding his hand out for Alpine to sniff. “And I love cats.”

“Then I’ll leave you to it,” Steve says politely, closing the door behind him.

Tony decides to take a proper look at the room in the morning and strips out of his clothes. There’s a wash basin set up for him, nothing warm, not when no one knew when he’d be arriving, but it serves to get the dust and dirt of his travels washed off of him. Once he’s clean, he changes into the sleep clothes laid out for him.

Then he climbs under the blankets, snuffs out the candle, curls around the cat, who lets out one sleepy _mraow_ , and promptly falls asleep.

* * *

Tony wakes up the next morning—far earlier than he’d like judging by the lack of sun coming through the window—to a furry hat. “What the…?” he mutters and then a fluffy white tail dips down between his eyes. He goes cross-eyed trying to look at it and then he realizes: it’s just Alpine.

“Well, good morning to you too, Miss Alpine,” he says and tries to dislodge her claws from his hair.

_Mraow!_

Alpine gets up and stretches, extending her paws out, the claws digging into his scalp. “Ouch!” he exclaims and jerks upright. Alpine lets out an offended yowl as she goes flying but she lands on her feet amidst the quilt so Tony isn’t overly worried about her, especially not after she gives him a baleful look and starts primly grooming herself.

“Well, I’m terribly sorry, Your Majesty,” he says, bowing to her.

She gives him a look that clearly says that his bow is the least of an apology that he can make. He shakes his head, amused at her antics, and gets up. There’s fresh water in the basin—hot, which confuses him until he realizes that the bag he’d left at the station yesterday is now sitting at the foot of the bed. Someone has been in his room then and recently, judging by the temperature of the water. The only question is, was it Bucky or Steve or someone else altogether? He hopes it was either Bucky or Steve but he tells himself not to be upset if it was someone else. After all, he’s sure they’re both very busy with the ranch and all.

He washes up, a little more thoroughly than he had last night since there’s hot water now, and by the time he’s done, Alpine is pawing at the door, demanding to go out. Tony opens the door, laughing to himself when she shoots away, barely more than a blur of white. Now that he’s opened the door, he can smell something cooking downstairs, something that smells absolutely incredible. He shuts the door again and hurries through getting dressed, done and out the door in less than ten minutes, just in time for the sky to finally start getting lighter.

As he pads down the hall, he hears voices from the direction of the kitchen. He hadn’t seen it last night but Steve had pointed it out to him as they’d passed by. It’s located near the back of the large house, near the closest staircase to Tony’s bedroom. He’d already decided last night that that’s the staircase he’ll use since it’s only a few hallways away, as opposed to the grand staircase near the front of the house.

“—with him when he wakes up,” he hears Bucky say as he walks down the stairs.

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” someone that Tony doesn’t recognize asks. “You’ve got a lot of money, Sarge, and someone might take advantage of that. You can’t just trust any omega you might meet, especially when they’re as indebted as that one is. They’re all—”

“All what, Rumlow?” Bucky interrupts, voice harsh. Tony pauses outside the door to the kitchen, waiting to hear what Bucky might say. “Natasha trusts him and I, for one, have a problem with sendin’ anyone to the poorhouse cause of a few financial troubles. I’ve got more than enough money, might as well use some of the damn stuff.”

“But—”

“You got chores,” Steve snaps, sounding like he’s just on the other side of the door. Tony stifles a gasp. He hadn’t realized Steve was there too. “I suggest you get to ‘em.”

“You’re not—”

“What, your boss? Maybe not but Bucky’s the one paying your wages and I’d say he’s about as done with you as I am.”

“Sure am,” Bucky drawls. “Git, Rumlow. I got enough money to pay you on top of Tony’s debts, that’s what you’re really worried about, ain’t’cha?” Tony can’t see into the room but Rumlow must try to say something else because Bucky’s voice turns hard as he says, “Steve’s right. You got things to do, so get out of my kitchen.”

There must be another door inside the kitchen, one that leads out of the house, because Rumlow doesn’t leave through the door Tony’s standing next to but he still hears a door open and close. As soon as he’s sure Rumlow is gone, Tony slips inside the kitchen, startling both Bucky and Steve.

“ _Fuck_ , pretty thing, where did you come from?” Bucky asks and then his eyes widen. “ _Shit_ —I mean—sorry—”

Tony laughs. “No need to watch your language on my account. I’ve heard worse than that in the city.”

“Still as much of a cesspool as I remember?”

He nods and then, following his nose, glances hopefully toward the pan of bacon on the stove. “Any of that available for hungry omegas?”

“Sure is,” Bucky says. He gets up and dishes Tony up a plate himself, sliding it across the wooden table to him. “Hope you don’t mind helping out with the chores. We got a couple servants but I like to help out where I can.”

“I don’t mind at all,” Tony says agreeably. He’d been expecting hard work when he agreed to come all the way to Texas. “I just might need to be shown how to do it the first time but I’m a quick learner.”

Bucky smiles at him, transforming his face from something handsome into absolutely breathtaking. Tony’s breath catches in his throat and he quickly stuffs his face with bacon before he says something he’ll regret later. “So, Tony,” Bucky says after a quick glance at Steve that Tony can’t decipher. “I figured we’d talk about bonding real quick, get that over and done with, and then I can show you the ranch, how does that sound?”

Tony stares dumbfoundedly at him for a long moment before he finally manages to say, “So fast? You don’t need to worry about going down to the church or anything?”

“Huh?” Bucky asks, looking as confused as Tony feels. Then his face clears. “Oh!” He laughs just a bit but it doesn’t sound very mean-spirited, just relieved. “We do things a little differently out here. Don’t need a church if we’re two consenting adults, no signatures or contracts, just a witness and a bonding bite.”

“Oh!” Tony breathes, very relieved. It’s not that he has a problem with the church, per se, other than that science keeps moving forward and the church doesn’t seem to be moving along with it. If he can avoid involving them in his marriage, he’d like that.

“Now, Natasha said she told you that I needed to bond to stop the town busybodies from harping on my love life and that’s true enough. But it’s not really about me—”

“It’s about me,” Steve interrupts. “When Bucky and I first moved out here, we spent a lot of time in the house, recovering from the war, and that built a lot of rumors about the nature of our relationship.”

“None of which are true,” Bucky adds, with a worried look at Tony like he thinks Tony might care about that (he doesn’t).

“None of which are true,” Steve agrees.

“Cause he’s got Miss Sharon,” Bucky teases, drawing out the name.

“Cause—yeah,” Steve says, blushing bright red. He scuffs his toe along the floor, grinning shyly. “Problem is, I can’t get bonded to her cause her uncle thinks she’s just a front for Bucky and me.”

“So if I bond with Bucky, he’ll think that you two aren’t together and let you bond with—Miss Sharon, was it?” Tony finishes, smirking at Steve who good-naturedly waves him off.

“That’s exactly it,” Bucky says. “I was in New York about a year ago. It’ll be easy enough to spread the rumor that we met while I was there and fell in love.”

Well, if it’s for the cause of true love… Tony tilts his head to the side, baring the side of his neck. “What’re you waiting for then?”

“Now hold on just a moment,” Bucky says. “Natasha says you’re worried about alphas trying to take advantage of you. I just wanted to let you know that I won’t expect anything from you.”

“Except a bed.”

“Sorry?”

Tony looks steadily at him. He’s been thinking about this since last night when Bucky had first mentioned that he didn’t expect them to share a bed, a sentiment echoed by Steve. “Your neighbors already think the two of you are bonded, your man—Rumlow?—knows that this is a sham marriage, and he doesn’t seem too pleased to have me here. He will know that something is up if we’re not, at the very least, sharing a bed.”

Bucky looks startled. “I hadn’t thought of it like that.”

Tony shrugs. “I grew up among people who thought such machinations were common. You learn to think as they do.”

“Right,” Bucky says slowly, mulling it over in his mind. “Then I won’t expect anything from you except that you share my bed. Steve?”

“I’ll see Tony’s things moved over as soon as possible.”

He leaves the kitchen then, leaving the two of them alone. The very air takes on a charged feeling, the sense of expectation hanging thick between them. Tony tilts his head again, baring his neck to Bucky. Bucky’s gaze zeroes in on it and the alpha gulps. Tony tracks the motion and bites back a smile. It’s nice to know that Bucky is as affected as he is.

“Tony,” Bucky whispers. He comes around the table and kneels in front of the omega, taking one of his hands in his. Tony feels almost dwarfed in that big grip and he shivers as he wonders how that hand might feel on his waist, his back…lower, maybe.

“Tony,” Bucky whispers again. Tony drags his gaze from Bucky’s hand to his eyes, his big, dark, gorgeously grey eyes that he thinks he could get lost in. “Pretty thing, this is your last chance to back out.”

Tony shakes his head. “I don’t need any chances. I trust you.”

Bucky’s breath hitches. “You don’t even know me.”

“I know that you’re the kind of alpha who would send an indebted omega as much money as he needed without even a promise that he would uphold his end of the deal. I know that you defended me to your worker, someone you’ve known much longer than you’ve known me, without even hesitating. You’re right, I don’t _really_ know you. But I know enough about you to know that you won’t let this go bad. And I want to try. Don’t you?”

Bucky groans, “Aw hell, pretty thing, yeah, I wanna try.” He leans forward to press a soft kiss to the sensitive skin just under Tony’s ear, making him gasp softly. “You taste good.” He moves lower, mouths at the bonding gland. “Tell me I can, Tony, let me—”

“You can.”

Bucky doesn’t wait any longer. He fits his teeth around the gland and bites down, drinking in the taste of Tony’s pheromones. As though it had just been waiting for that moment, Tony’s nose is suddenly filled with the scent of pine trees and freshly fallen snow and he knows—he just _knows_ —that that’s Bucky that he’s smelling. For an instant, he wonders what he smells like to Bucky but then a tidal wave of _pleasure_ washes over him and he moans, hands clutching at Bucky’s shoulders to keep him there as Bucky kisses his way back up his throat and slants his mouth over Tony’s, kissing him fiercely.

He’s kissed before, kissed and been kissed and everything in between, and it’s never been like how it is with Bucky. Bucky knows how to kiss and knows how to do it well. He teases his tongue at the seam of Tony’s lips until he opens for him and then he slides inside, twining his tongue with Tony’s. It’s everything he’d ever dreamed of when he was a child imagining his bonding, everything and so much more all at the same time. He digs his fingers in, trying to keep his ground as their bond snaps into place, threatening to overwhelm him with just how _much_ there is.

Finally, the bond settles, tucking itself away into a corner of his mind, and Bucky pulls away. He looks as dazed and as wrecked as Tony imagines he does.

“Pretty thing,” Bucky gasps, “I don’t think we’re gonna have any problems at all.”

* * *

The ranch, as it turns out is too big to be seen in a single day, but they get through about half of it before turning back as dusk is gathering. Tony has a horse of his own this time, a gentle old mare named Daisy that’s perfect for a beginner like him. He falls absolutely in love with her just as soon as he sees her, loves her big white nose and brown hair just about everywhere else. She’s an absolute sweetheart and he tells her so, even though Bucky snorts and tells him that she was a firecracker back in her day.

By the time they get back to the house that night, the lights are on and something is cooking that smells downright amazing. “You go on inside the house,” Bucky tells him, taking the reins of the two horses. “I’ll take care of these two.”

“But you said you wanted my help with the chores,” Tony points out. “Shouldn’t I start with the horses?”

Bucky grins at him and says, “If you’re sure,” and then leads him over to the stables. He teaches Tony how to unsaddle the horses and put away the tack, how to wipe the two horses down and brush them once he’s finished, and finally, how to feed them once they’re done with all that. It’s harder work than Tony was expecting and he’s a little sweaty—and a lot dirty—by the time they tromp back up to the house.

There’s more noise than Tony would have thought for a house meant for two people. He must look startled because Bucky explains, “I dine with the cowboys. Hope that’s okay.”

Tony thinks about his books and how they’d all sounded so excited about cowboys and he nods eagerly. Dining with the cowboys is more than acceptable. Bucky grins at him, pushes open the door, and ushers him into the light and noise.

It’s a whirlwind of an evening. Tony meets more people that night than he has in a single evening since before his parents died. Bucky’s cowboys are mostly alphas, but there’s a few betas as well, and the staff seem to be mostly betas and omegas. He gets along well with Sam, Bucky’s third-in-command after himself and Steve, and Scott and Luis, who apparently came out west together (no one’s entirely certain if they’re family or close friends but it doesn’t matter so they’ve all dropped the matter). Rumlow, he could do without, but apparently the man served with Steve in the war, so he has a place here as well. Then there’s Maria and Monica and Gabriel and nearly a dozen others whose names he can’t remember.

By the end of the night, he’s exhausted and so when Bucky ushers him up to their bedroom, he doesn’t put up even a token protest, even though the gathering is still going strong downstairs. Instead, he just lets Bucky undress him and clean him. He’s awake enough to manage changing into sleep clothes and to crawl into bed but he’s already almost asleep by the time Bucky curls around him, arm draped over his waist.

* * *

The days settle into a routine. Tony wakes up early in the morning, usually when Bucky is also getting out of bed. He helps the cook gather eggs from the chickens they keep and then helps with breakfast. He has some skill in the kitchen as Jarvis had insisted on it—not much, but enough not to poison anyone. For the rest of the morning, he helps with odd chores around the house and then it’s back to the kitchen to help with lunch, which usually brings in whoever is nearest the house. He asks once about the others and is told that they usually take their meals with them when they ride out.

His afternoons are his own. Sometimes, Bucky is home and they sit together in the one of the rooms, talking and playing cards or chess. Sometimes, Tony takes riding lessons from Luis, who claims to be the best riding instructor in the whole state (and Tony, learning fast, is inclined to agree). Sometimes, Sharon—who apparently keeps the books for Bucky—is around. She and Tony become fast friends, bonding over their British family members. When she is at the house, they laugh about their two alphas and she tells him about living in Faircreek and once, drags him all the way out of the house and into the town to see what it’s like.

Tony spends his evenings alternating spending time with Bucky’s cowboys and with Bucky himself. By mutual agreement, they’ve decided to take things slow. They haven’t kissed since that first day, though they’ve held hands plenty of times and they fall asleep holding onto each other.

He likes it. It isn’t the grand adventure he’d always dreamed of but it’s more than he could have realistically hoped for. He had thought he would spend the rest of his days bonded to some stuffy alpha who would barely even look at him once he was no longer young and beautiful. Instead, he has Bucky, who looks at him with heat and passion in his eyes and teaches him how to ride and shoot and holds onto him so tight at night that he sometimes feels as though he can’t breathe.

It’s wonderful.

* * *

Tony has been there for nearly a month by the time he finally gets to meet the horrible neighbors Bucky has been telling him about. He’s been to town several times since he arrived, both with Sharon and with Bucky, and while he’s met nearly everyone who lives in Faircreek proper, he still hasn’t had a chance to meet the center of gossip in the town, the old woman who has made Bucky and Steve’s lives so difficult, Bucky’s closest neighbor: Marjorie Wilkinson. According to Bucky, even though nearly the entire town has seen him with Bucky, it’s not truly official until Marjorie has declared it so.

“So where is she?” Tony asks one morning at breakfast. “Shouldn’t the center of gossip be in town all the time?”

“She’s been sick,” Bucky tells him as he pours Tony another cup of coffee.

“Maybe, if we’re lucky, the old biddy died,” Steve mutters into his own cup.

“Steve!” Bucky exclaims, scandalized. Tony just laughs. Bucky turns to him and murmurs low enough that Steve won’t be able to hear, “Would be nice though.” Tony laughs harder.

As luck would have it though, when he and Bucky go into town later that day to pick up an order of clothes for Tony, Mrs. Wilkinson is already in town, just leaving the general store as Bucky finishes tying Daisy and Violet to the hitching post. Bucky takes one look at her and immediately turns back to Tony to offer his arm as assistance in stepping down from the wagon.

Tony looks at his arm and back up at Bucky. “What are you doing?” he asks.

“Just take it,” Bucky hisses, offering his arm again more insistently.

“No. Why are you being weird?”

Bucky jerks his head in the direction of the old woman shielding her eyes from the sun as she glares in their direction. “That’s her.”

“ _That’s_ Marjorie Wilkinson?” Tony asks doubtfully. She looks harmless.

“You won’t think so after you’ve met her,” Bucky says, offering his arm out again. This time, Tony takes it, lightly stepping down from the wagon with Bucky’s assistance. He pops open his parasol—a “wedding” gift from Bucky—and raises it to his shoulder, shielding himself from the sun. To be completely honest, he doesn’t really mind catching any sun but Bucky seems to like the way his skin looks, creamy and blemish free, so he continues to use the parasol.

Bucky tucks him in close to his side and they set off down the street, in the direction of the general store, which apparently doubles as the post office in a small town like Faircreek. It had surprised Tony when he’d first found out that fact—after all, New York had several post offices due to its size.

Despite walking nowhere near Mrs. Wilkinson, she crosses the street to join them, coming to a stop just in front of them. Bucky and Tony stop as well, Bucky offering up a cool smile and Tony, a distantly polite one. She beams back at them, though there’s something very fake about it.

“Why, Mr. Barnes,” she titters, “you’re failing me. Who’s this young man?”

“Mrs. Wilkinson,” Bucky says, “this is my omega, Tony. Tony, Mrs. Wilkinson.”

“Your omega?” she gasps. “You bonded without telling me?” Tony self-consciously touches the bonding mark on his neck. He’s not ashamed of it at all but her searching eyes make him uncomfortable and he doesn’t want her to even catch a glimpse of it. She glances at it briefly but doesn’t look able to see anything because her gaze skips back to Bucky. “You didn’t tell me you met someone!”

Bucky forces a smile to his face, a smile that looks more like a grimace, and Tony cuts in, “That’s my fault, actually.”

“It is?” Mrs. Wilkinson asks.

“It is?” Bucky mutters. Mrs. Wilkinson looks back at him. “Yeah, it is.”

Tony places his other hand on Bucky’s arm as well, leaning into him. “We met last year when Bucky was in New York and I just wanted to keep him to myself for a little while. We’ve been talking ever since, he’s been just _wonderful_ , and when he asked me to come join him here, I couldn’t say no.” He smiles sweetly up at Bucky and leans up to kiss his cheek. “I love him so much.”

Bucky’s smile for him is softly fond and when he leans down to kiss Tony, it’s as gentle as it can possibly be, an absolutely perfect second kiss. Bucky lingers over his lips for enough time to just barely be on the right side of long before pulling away.

Mrs. Wilkinson’s smile is frozen on her face as she looks between the two of them. “But,” she begins, clearly floundering. “I thought—what about Steve?”

“What about him?” Bucky asks. “I’ve always told you he was nothing more than a brother to me.” Tony can practically _hear_ the implied “You’re the one who thought I was lying.”

“Oh,” Mrs. Wilkinson says faintly. “And he’s not…upset?”

Bucky and Tony share a glance. “Why would he be upset?” Bucky asks. Tony almost adds something about Steve and Sharon but he stops short, remembering that if he says anything about those two, he runs the risk of implying that he’s only here to stop the rumors (that might have been true at first, but he’s finding more and more reasons every day to want to stay that have nothing to do with Steve and everything to do with Bucky).

“Well,” Mrs. Wilkinson says, shifting uncomfortably. “As long as everyone’s happy—”

“That’s so nice of you to say,” Tony coos, beaming at her. “Bucky and I are so happy.”

“As a clam at high tide,” Bucky adds. “If you’ll excuse us, we need to get to the general store. Tony’s ordered some things that we’d like to pick up.”

They’re barely out of earshot of the irate Mrs. Wilkinson before they burst into laughter. “Pretty thing, you were magnificent,” Bucky declares, laying a smacking kiss on the top of Tony’s curls.

Tony grins up at him. “We make a pretty good team, don’t we?”

“Yeah,” Bucky agrees. “We do.”

* * *

Two months after Tony comes to Texas, Steve announces his engagement to Sharon after finally obtaining the permission of her guardians, her aunt and uncle, to bond. Bucky throws a party at the ranch to celebrate the engagement and, to be honest, Tony doesn’t actually remember much of it. The gin and whiskey are freely flowing, provided not only by Bucky but also by Esperanza, who owns the saloon in town, and Jim, who runs the general store. Tony drinks more of it than he probably should, considering that he was expecting a similar alcohol content to the drinks he used to have in New York and not whatever high amount they apparently have in the drinks out here.

He wakes up the next morning in Bucky’s bed, just like he always does, in Bucky’s _arms_ , just like he always does, but entirely naked, which he _never_ does. Bucky is already awake and grinning down at him like the cat who caught the canary.

“Mornin’, sleeping beauty,” Bucky tells him.

“Morning,” Tony says slowly. He looks between himself and Bucky, who is apparently just as naked as Tony is. Despite Bucky’s arm thrown over his middle, they’re actually separated by a couple inches. “Did we…?”

Bucky shakes his head. Tony tries not to breathe too heavy a sigh of relief, though he doesn’t think he succeeds based on Bucky’s look of mock outrage. “You said you were too hot to sleep in your clothes.”

“And what about you?”

“Solidarity,” Bucky says promptly. “You didn’t want to sleep naked alone.”

“Oh.” Tony raises a hand to his head, wondering at the lack of headache. He knows that he drank enough last night to barely remember anything that happened, so he _should_ have a pretty severe headache, but he doesn’t.

Bucky nods. “That would be whatever moonshine Esperanza’s got cookin’ up. Never gives a headache. Only blessed thing about that damned drink.”

“Right.”

“So,” Bucky says after a moment. “I was thinkin’. You and me, we ain’t been out around the ranch together since that first day. Whaddya say we take a couple slices of ham, maybe some ginger bottles, and go out ridin’?”

Tony shoots up to a sitting position, barely even noticing the blankets puddling around his waist. “You mean it?”

“Wouldn’t ask if I didn’t.”

He grins. “Yeah. Yeah, I want to go.”

Bucky dresses faster than him, so he heads down before Tony to wheedle a meal out of the cook and saddle up their horses. Tony finishes up as fast as he can and then he’s clattering down the stairs and out the front door to join Bucky in the stables. Alpine is in the stables as well, batting at the reins Bucky is holding, and Tony bends down to scoop her up as he skids to a halt next to the alpha. He sets Alpine down on the top of the stall door and looks curiously between Bucky and the horses.

“That’s not Daisy,” he points out.

“Well spotted,” Bucky says and pats the white horse’s flank. “Luis said you’ve been learning fast so I thought you might like to move up from Daisy to Friday here. She’s a little more spirited but not so much you won’t be able to handle her.”

Tony, glowing a little at Bucky’s praise, takes Friday’s reins and swings himself up, not even needing the mounting block anymore.

“Hey, attaboy,” Bucky says approvingly. “I’d clap but, ya know.” He gestures with the stump of his shoulder. Bucky passes the small picnic lunch up to Tony and then leads Red Star over to the block so that _he_ can mount up.

With a click of their tongues, Bucky and Tony lead Red Star and Friday out of the stables. They walk the horses slowly down the trail away from the house and out to the pastures. Bucky brings Red Star to a stop once they’re far enough away from the house that they can’t see it anymore, Tony following suit. He turns and gives Tony a devilish grin.

“Luis said you tried out a gallop the other day. Wanna try it on a horse that can _really_ run?” he asks

It’s probably dangerous. Tony almost certainly doesn’t have enough experience. But he’s always liked to live life on the edge a little. He nods eagerly, feeling gratified when Bucky’s grin broadens.

“Catch me if you can,” Bucky challenges him and spurs Red Star into a gallop.

With a whoop, Tony chases after him, urging Friday on. Friday runs like a dream, though Tony can definitely see why Bucky had called her more spirited than Daisy. Bucky leads him across the pastures, down a small gully and across one of the streams crisscrossing the ranch. Tony knows he has no hope of catching Bucky up, not as a new rider, but he’s able to keep Bucky in his sights the entire time _and_ he even gets close enough for Friday to nip at Red Star’s flank once or twice.

They’re some miles from the house when the horses finally start to tire. Bucky slows Red Star down to a walk and Tony slows Friday down once he’s caught up to Bucky. After another half hour, they finally completely slow to a stop.

“Whaddya think?” Bucky asks him, raising an eyebrow. “Enjoy your first long ride?”

Tony nods eagerly, still exhilarated from the feeling of the wind whipping past his face. He’s always wanted to fly, always known that he’ll never be able to, but he thinks this might have been as close as he can get.

He shakes his hair out of his face, still smiling and not entirely certain he’ll ever be able to stop, before glancing back at Bucky. The alpha is watching him with a soft, fond smile on his face. Bucky clicks his tongue, urging Red Star closer to Friday.

“What are you doing?” Tony asks curiously.

“C’mere,” Bucky murmurs and leans forward, tucking his hand behind Tony’s neck to pull him closer. Tony goes, eyes slipping shut as Bucky slants his mouth over Tony’s. It’s gentle for a moment, and soft, and then Bucky traces his tongue over Tony’s lips and he parts his mouth on a sharp gasp. Bucky slides his tongue inside, meeting Tony’s sinuously before gliding past to explore the inside of his mouth. Tony whimpers, hands fisting in Bucky’s shirt. He’s been kissed before, when he was younger and more naïve, but it’s never been like how it is with Bucky.

Bucky is _more_.

They part for a breath, coming back together for another kiss and another and another until Tony is dizzy with it. And only when he feels himself starting to slip from Friday’s saddle does Bucky stop his drugging kisses, gently righting them both in their own saddles.

Tony watches him, unable to draw his gaze away from Bucky’s kissed-red lips. His own mouth feels swollen and hot and he’s certain that the area around his mouth is red from Bucky’s stubble. For his part, Bucky doesn’t seem able to look away from him for long either and eventually Bucky gives up and kisses him one more time.

“Beautiful, pretty thing,” Bucky murmurs, and Tony melts.

* * *

Tony had always thought that when he eventually fell in love—for real, not the fleeting infatuations and dalliances of his boyhood years—it would feel like sinking into a warm bath, slow and encompassing. Falling in love with Bucky is nothing like that. He _crashes_ into love with Bucky. From the moment Bucky looked at him with those piercing eyes under that hat, Tony has been lost, falling deeper and deeper with every wordless affection and sultry smile and sweet title Bucky gives him.

Perhaps it’s silly to say out loud that he thinks he’s falling in love with his husband, but it’s the truth. He hadn’t thought when he came out west that he would find love. Adventure, yes, peace of mind, absolutely, but not love. And yet, that seems to be precisely what’s happening to him.

He wakes up in the morning, curled into Bucky’s side, safe and protected by his strength, and while it still makes him a little wet and squirmy, that interest is settling into a warm glow in his belly these days. Bucky cooks him breakfast most mornings and Tony always thanks him with a kiss. He goes out riding with Luis and Bucky is always right there watching him with hooded eyes and his thumb on his lips that draws Tony’s gaze right to his mouth. In the evenings, when the cowboys play whatever tunes are on their minds, Bucky swings him around the kitchen and holds him so close Tony feels like he could melt into him.

And when they go to bed, _oh_ , Bucky clutches him tight and kisses him again and again until Tony scarcely knows which way is up. They still stay clothed, waiting for Tony’s heat to mate. Bucky says it’s because that’s what Tony deserves; he might not have been able to give him a proper ceremony for their bonding bite but he’ll be damned if he doesn’t mate him properly. It drives Tony insane. He has heats less often than most omegas, only getting them twice a year instead of three or four times. He knows Bucky is just about going crazy too but he’s still insisting it’s the right thing to do.

So they kiss and when they both get too heated, Bucky pulls away to the other side of the bed and waits out their excitement until they’re both calmed down enough for him to come back and tuck Tony into his arms as they fall asleep. It’s not nearly what Tony wants but it’s still sweet and he loves it, loves _Bucky_ , so he’s okay with it.

It’s almost enough to make him forget that there’s trouble brewing with the cowboys.

Rumlow is still howling about Bucky’s money going to help pay off Tony’s debts and he doesn’t seem to have noticed that both alpha and omega are well on their way to falling for each other. Steve has confined him to the ranch, worried that he doesn’t, Rumlow will head straight for Faircreek, raving about fake bonds and devious plans, and not only will Bucky and Tony’s sham bond be exposed, but Steve will lose out on his engagement to Sharon. It’s enough to have them all concerned, even though Rumlow can’t go into town anymore. After all, he’s still talking to the other cowboys and while all of them are loyal to Bucky, there’s always the worry that one of them might let something slip.

“I’m going to have to let him go,” Bucky murmurs into Tony’s hair one night. “Just can’t do it yet.”

“Why not?” Tony asks, rolling over to face Bucky. He can barely make out his features in the dark but he’s traced them so often, with his fingers, with his lips, with his tongue, that he knows them as well as he knows his own.

“The cattle drive’s in two weeks,” Bucky says, like that explains everything and maybe it does to someone more familiar with the ranch, but Tony just wrinkles his brow. “Gotta drive ‘em up to Kansas. It’s about a three-month journey. I need all hands with me.”

“You’re leaving?” Tony asks, more stunned by the revelation than by Bucky saying he has to keep Rumlow for the cattle drive. “For three months? Is this common?”

“The cattle drive?”

“No, you going with them. You’re the owner of the ranch. Surely you can stay behind.”

Bucky shifts uncomfortably. “Some owners do. But you know I like to be hands on.”

“Sure, but you don’t think you could have told me earlier than this that you were leaving?”

“I’m tellin’ you now.”

Tony squirms out of Bucky’s arms, running his fingers through his hair as he sits up. It’s easy to forget, in their little bubble, that Bucky had a life here before him. He’s run things his way long before Tony, but somehow, he had thought that Bucky had started taking him into consideration when he made decisions about the ranch.

“What’re you so upset about?” Bucky asks as he sits up as well.

“I’m _upset_ that you made this decision to leave without talking to me about it,” Tony snaps. “I’m _upset_ that you’re going to be gone for three months, leaving me with only a couple people that I know, and a whole lot more who don’t really like me. I’m _upset_ that you’re going to be gone for my heat after you insisted we wait to mate!”

“Tony—”

“No,” Tony insists, getting out of the bed. He gathers up his clothes and heads for the door. “I can’t have this discussion with you right now. I’m sleeping in the other room.”

He makes sure to slam the door behind him.

* * *

Tony doesn’t return to Bucky’s bed before the cattle drive.

Here’s the thing: it’s silly maybe that he’s so angry about this, but he had really thought that he was being treated like an equal, like a partner, and not just like an omega who couldn’t make any hard decisions. He’d thought Bucky was different than all the other alphas he’s known in the past, more like Jarvis than Howard. And now he finds out that Bucky has made this huge decision, one that will directly affect their bonding, without him, and while he really does doubt that that’s what the alpha had been intending, it makes him feel hurt and useless.

He wants— _needs—_ the time to process those emotions before he returns to their bed.

The day the cowboys leave on the cattle drive, he joins Sharon on the porch to see them off. At dinner a few days ago, Sharon had told him she would be staying here with him while their mates are gone.

“For protection,” she had said. “It’s a lawless place out here and I don’t want you to be alone.” She’d winked. “Plus, we omegas must comfort each other during the long summer months, mustn’t we?”

The yard is a hotbed of activity, the cowboys mounting up onto their horses as the dogs yap around their feet. Not far in the distance—far enough that Tony can’t see them, though he can certainly hear them—the herds are lowing in their pens, having been rounded up a few days ago. Tony crosses his arms around his middle, chilled in the early morning air.

“You doing okay?” Sharon asks him quietly and passes him her coffee.

He takes a grateful sip. “Fine,” he says shortly. “What makes you think something’s wrong?”

She shrugs. “You and Bucky keep glancing at each other when the other one’s not looking. Thought I’d check in.”

“We’re fine,” he repeats. Bucky laughs jovially at something Gabriel says and claps him on the back. He doesn’t even look over at Tony. The omega grinds his teeth so loud even Sharon must hear it, judging by the way she glances at him. But she doesn’t try to argue with him, which makes him rather pathetically grateful. He’s afraid if he says the words out loud, explains why he’s so bothered, he’ll sound ridiculous, like his feelings don’t matter, just like Howard always told him.

Steve comes riding up on Nomad from the bunkhouse, a worried expression on his face. He slides off the horse and pulls Bucky aside, whispering fiercely to him. Tony motions at the two of them with his chin.

“What do you think that’s about?”

Sharon shakes her head. “Don’t know, but I doubt it’s good. Haven’t you noticed? Rumlow isn’t here.”

Tony hadn’t noticed actually but he doesn’t even get the chance to worry about it before Steve is striding over to them, a deep frown on his handsome face.

“Got bad news for you two,” he tells them. “Rumlow broke his leg, won’t be going on the drive.” Sharon and Tony share a concerned look. “Yeah, I hear ya there. Look, I won’t lie to you, I’m concerned he’s just fakin’ it. We all know he’s got problems with Tony. Can’t do nothin’ about it though, not this close to leavin’. So here’s what we’re gonna do: don’t leave the house for anything frivolous, be prepared for an ambush; Sharon, I know you can shoot, Tony, what about you?”

“I was a Stark before I was a Barnes. I can shoot,” Tony swears. Steve smirks at him. Tony bites his lip and looks over at Bucky, who is very studiously not looking at him. “Is Bucky—”

Steve shakes his head. “I tried, but he’s convinced he has to go with us.”

Tony nods. He’d never expected anything more, though it would have been nice. He looks away as Steve and Sharon say their goodbyes, and eventually, turns around and goes back inside the house. He can’t watch the cowboys leave, not when they’re taking his heart with them.

* * *

The first few days pass quickly. While they don’t have enough supplies to last the full three months, Tony and Sharon have more than enough to get them through at least a couple weeks so they’re set for now. During the cattle drive, Bucky apparently usually hires a couple new hands to come up and tend to the ranch while everyone else is away so the two omegas don’t have to worry about that. As for things to do, Sharon says that the first week or so of the cattle drive tends to keep her busy as she has to keep up to date with all the changes going on around the ranch but Tony is a little bit more bored. Before their argument, Bucky had promised to build him a forge so he could tinker, but that hasn’t happened yet and now that they’re fighting, Tony doubts it’ll _ever_ happen.

He helps Sharon out with her work, but with the two of them, it goes by much faster than it normally does. They’re wrapped up with the changes to the books in six days instead of the usual nine, leaving them _both_ bored instead of just Tony.

 _Well,_ he thinks darkly one night as he stares out at the flickering lights in the bunkhouse, _I won’t be bored for too much longer if Rumlow really is faking it._

If he were in Rumlow’s place, he’d wait just long enough to make sure that the cowboys couldn’t turn around to come back to help and then enact his plan. Of course, if he were in Rumlow’s place, this whole thing wouldn’t be happening because he wouldn’t have made it his business what the boss did with his own money.

“I don’t get it,” he says to Sharon one night about a week and a half into their confinement. They’re playing cards, some variation of poker that they play out here. Apparently, it can be played with only two people, which is great for cowboys out on the open range, but terrible for Tony, who is normally a decent poker player when he has more than one person to play against. Sharon is either an excellent poker player or an equally excellent cheater—Tony isn’t sure which—and he’s only been playing the game for a few days. He hasn’t had time to learn all the tricks yet.

“Poker?” Sharon asks him.

“Rumlow.”

“Ah.”

There’s a world of understanding in that _ah_ and he snorts softly. “Bucky’s got more than enough money. He’s a deft hand with his finances and an excellent rancher. Rumlow should have nothing to worry about, even with all my debts.”

Sharon shakes her head. “Some people are like that,” she says. “Always greedy, always wanting more, thinking that if you’re getting something, it must mean there’s less for them. Can’t do anything about them, just gotta learn to live with them.”

“Doesn’t mean I want to,” he grumbles.

She laughs.

In the end, it takes two weeks for Rumlow to make his move. Old Marjorie Wilkinson comes by the house one day, shouting about how neither of them have been to town in those two weeks, and doesn’t leave when neither of them come to the door.

“I’ll handle this,” Sharon says eventually. She shifts the curtain back into place, carefully enough that Mrs. Wilkinson apparently doesn’t notice it move. “You stay inside. Stay away from—”

“The windows,” Tony finishes dully. “I know.” Fuck but he wishes he could breathe in the fresh air again.

Sharon gives him a sympathetic smile and steps out onto the porch. From where he’s sitting, Tony can’t really hear what they’re saying to each other, especially now that Mrs. Wilkinson has quieted down. And he already told Sharon he wouldn’t go near the windows. Ordinarily, he would have just ignored her, but a couple days ago, he’d been looking out his bedroom window and one of the cowboys had spotted him. It shouldn’t have been a problem, except that the cowboy had gone sprinting straight for the bunkhouse. Maybe he’d meant to tell Rumlow he’d seen Tony, maybe he just hadn’t realized anyone was staying there, but either way, Sharon had made him change bedrooms and now he’s not allowed near the windows.

The door opens again and he glances up, smiling at Sharon as she comes in. But there’s a troubled expression on her face and his smile slides away when she holds up a scrap of paper.

“What’s that?” he asks.

She locks the front door. “Mrs. Wilkinson gave me this,” she mutters. “Said it was disgraceful we weren’t picking up our mail. Must’ve been left on the front porch.” She passes the scrap to Tony. He glances over it.

There isn’t much written, just a quick message scrawled in an almost illegible penmanship: _Coming for you, Omega._

He would have expected that he’d be filled with terror at the thought that someone is out to get him, but all he feels is a grim sort of acceptance. So this is what it’s come down to, huh?

“That’s that, then,” he says quietly. He lowers the paper to one of the candles in the room, burning it to ashes. No need for such a grisly reminder of Rumlow’s plan, after all. “He’s made a mistake in giving us a warning. We’ve got hours to prepare for him. Sharon, we’re gonna barricade the doors, board up the windows. He’s not getting in, not without a fight.”

They spend the rest of the day shoring up the house, preparing for a siege, and by the time they hear the dogs barking in the yard, they’re as prepared for Rumlow’s assault as they can be. Tony breathes in deeply, running his hand down the rifle to steady himself. It’s a Stark rifle, one of the ones that he personally had designed. He knows this weapon almost as well as he knows himself and in his hands, it feels almost like an extension of his arm.

He peeks out of his tiny peephole, wondering if he can see Rumlow from his vantage point. He can’t, but when he glances at Sharon, she nods, letting him know that _she_ can.

“Come on out, Omega!” Rumlow shouts. Tony shivers at the pure _hate_ in his voice. Not for the first time he wonders what he’d done to make Rumlow hate him so much; after all, it can’t just be all about the _money_ , can it?

“Don’t do that, Tony,” Sharon hisses to him. “Rumlow’s crazy, simple as that. Don’t beat yourself up wondering what you could have done different.”

He flashes her a quick, grateful smile.

“I know you’re in there!” Rumlow yells, bringing their attention back to him. Tony can’t see anyone else out there and he hopes that Rumlow is alone, that they’re only facing down one crazed alpha instead of half a dozen cowboys Rumlow managed to sway to his cause. But if that’s the case, if Rumlow is alone, why are they being left to defend the house on their own? “Come out and face judgment.”

He knows it’s a bad idea to say anything. It’s one of the first things his father taught him: _don’t taunt the man you’re fighting_ , followed up by _don’t give away your position._

And yet!

He can’t resist calling back, “No, I don’t think I will!”

Then he jerks back as Rumlow’s gun fires, a bullet shattering the glass window and thudding into the thick wood Tony had nailed up behind it. Sharon gives him an incredulous, _furious_ look and he shrugs back at her. What can he say? He’s always been like this.

“You stole what’s rightfully mine, Omega,” Rumlow says lowly. Fuck but Tony hates how he says that. Bucky hasn’t called him _omega_ very often but every time he does, it’s filled with heat and longing and Tony slicks up in a few seconds flat, desperate to have Bucky lay him out on their bed and cover him with his body and—

“You stole my money, and I’m gonna take it back.”

Tony stealthily moves to another window and says, “Hard to do when I’m not gonna go out there.”

Another gunshot, another window shatters. Tony moves to a third window. He doubts Rumlow—or even Sharon, for that matter—knows that he’s trying to get into a position where he’ll be able to see Rumlow. He has no idea if Sharon really can shoot as well as she says she does, but he figures it won’t hurt to have them both shooting at the insane alpha.

Rumlow laughs. Tony still can’t see him but he can hear the sound of the match striking up and he can see the flickering torchlight on the porch railing.

“You’re not, are you?” Rumlow asks. There’s an odd rhythmic thudding sound far off in the distance, though Tony has no idea what it might be. “And what are you gonna do when I set fire to this lovely house here?”

_Clip clop clip clip clop clip clop clip clip clop_

For the first time, a thrill of fear goes through him. He hadn’t thought about fire, and with the windows boarded up and the doors barricaded, he and Sharon will be sitting ducks in here. He throws an alarmed look her way, but to his great surprise, a slow smile is spreading across her face.

“What?” he starts to say but she shushes him.

“Don’t you recognize it?” she whispers.

He listens.

_Clip clop clip clip clop clip clop clip clip clop_

It rings a bell in his memory, but before he can really process it, there’s another gunshot. Tony throws himself backward, even as some part of his hindbrain recognizes that it sounds entirely different than the gun Rumlow was just using. There’s the sound of footsteps on the front porch stairs, slow and steady, and then someone knocks on the front door.

“Omega,” Bucky croons softly. “Tony, baby, come on out. I got him, pretty thing.”

Scarcely able to believe it, Tony throws himself at the barricade around the front door, tearing pieces away as fast as he can. Sharon helps him out and within minutes, the work that had taken them an hour to put together that afternoon is gone. He flings the door open and sprints out onto the porch, where his alpha is waiting for him.

Bucky catches him up, kissing him desperately in between murmured apologies and assurances that he’s okay, they’re okay, and “I’m so sorry, pretty thing, I never should have left.” Tony whispers back that he knows, he forgives him, and he kisses him back, holding on like he’ll never let go.

That is, right up until there’s yet another gunshot. They both turn, hands going for their guns, but it’s just Sharon, firing into Rumlow’s body. She looks up at them and grins viciously.

“What?” she asks. “It’s making me feel better.”

* * *

Tony wakes the next morning to Bucky cuddled up behind him, his arm slung over Tony’s waist. He closes his eyes again and luxuriates in the feeling of being held. It had been a shock, to say the least, to realize last night that Bucky was the one who killed Rumlow. After they had both calmed down, Tony had stepped away and said, “You’re not supposed to be here.”

Bucky had given him this sheepish look and said, “Stevie needed to knock some sense into me.” And then he’d taken Tony back into his arms and whispered, “I’ll tell ya everything about it in the mornin’, pretty thing, but right now I just need to hold ya.”

And Sharon had seemed to have things well in hand so he had let Bucky take him upstairs to their bedroom, let him undress him, and then curl up beside him in their bed, foreheads pressed against each other.

It’s the morning now but Tony doesn’t feel ready for that conversation yet that he knows they need to have. He wants to lay here a little longer and pretend that this is just like it was a few weeks ago, when they weren’t mad at each other, pretend that Bucky hadn’t left him behind, alone and trapped with a crazed alpha, to go off on his big adventure.

“I can hear you thinking,” Bucky says quietly.

Tony rolls over to face him, so close he can count the lashes on Bucky’s eyes. Bucky’s hand stays on his waist, keeping him close.

“You left me,” Tony says, just as quietly as Bucky.

“I know.”

“You didn’t even talk about it with me. That’s the thing, Bucky. I can’t say I would have been completely fine with it if you’d gone on the drive after we talked about it, but we’ll never know if I would have been or not cause you didn’t even give me the chance.”

“I know,” Bucky admits. “It wasn’t right o’ me and for that, I’m sorry. I promised you we’d be equals when you came out here to join me and I shoulda honored that.”

“Bucky. I gotta ask: why _did_ you come back?”

“It didn’t feel right, leavin’ you here like that, leavin’ you with no one but Sharon, fine as she is, to protect you from someone I knew was after you. I know you’re mad at me, pretty thing, but I couldn’t stop thinkin’ about how much I loved you and how much I wanted to be right back here with you instead of out there.”

Tony goes still. “You—you love me?” he asks.

Bucky’s breath catches. “I—”

Tony could, if he wanted to, wait for Bucky to finish his sentence. He could wait to see if Bucky will take it back or if he’ll say it again. But he doesn’t want to wait. He wants to lunge forward and kiss his alpha until they’re both breathless and panting. He wants Bucky’s knot inside him where he’s aching and empty. He wants to be loved until the memory of Rumlow’s hate is wiped away.

So he does.

He kisses Bucky, whispers, “I don’t want to wait. I know you feel like we should do this the right way cause everything else has been backwards, but Bucky, _alpha,_ this is us. I don’t want to wait for my heat.”

And Bucky whispers right back, “I don’t want to wait either, pretty thing. Want you to ride me so I can see those gorgeous eyes looking right back at me. Want you to be mine, Tony, say you’ll be mine.”

And that sounds just about amazing to Tony so he hooks his leg around Bucky’s and rolls him onto his back. He settles atop Bucky’s hips, feeling a small thrill go through him at the feeling of Bucky’s hard cock under his ass.

“I’m yours,” he promises. “I’ll always be yours.”

Bucky lunges up, wraps his arm around Tony’s waist, and kisses him hard. They kiss until they’re breathless and panting, just like how Tony had imagined it. They whisper sweet words to each other as they rip and tear at clothing until Tony is entirely naked and Bucky is only wearing his shirt. Tony dips the tips of his fingers inside his own hole, feeling how wet and open he is, safe in the knowledge that Bucky will never truly hurt him, would do everything he can to keep from hurting him.

When he thinks he’s open enough—probably sooner than it should be but longer than Tony wants—he slides down on Bucky’s cock as his alpha bites his bonding mark again. The scrape of his teeth against that sensitive spot sends sparks of pleasure shooting up and down Tony’s spine and he can’t stop himself from wiggling on Bucky’s cock.

“Pretty thing,” Bucky groans, hand going to his hip to still the omega. “You keep doing that, it’ll be over way too soon.”

But Tony doesn’t want it to be slow and drawn-out. He wants to be fucked, wants it hard and fast, so he squirms free of Bucky’s grip, raises himself up, whimpering a little at the drag of Bucky’s cock against his rim, and drops himself back down. They both cry out, Bucky’s grip tightening on Tony’s hip.

“Feel so good, pretty thing,” Bucky pants. Tony leans forward, intending on kissing him, but then Bucky’s cock brushes against some spot deep inside him that makes fireworks go off behind his eyes and he’s completely distracted from his plan.

“Like that?” Bucky asks him. Tony can only whine. Bucky slides his hand from Tony’s hip to his back, keeping him in that position as he urges Tony into a rhythm, up and down, each movement sending him higher and higher, pleasure coiling tighter into his stomach until he feels like he could burst.

“Bucky,” he moans. “Bucky, _alpha_ —”

Bucky growls, shifting his hips just enough to set Tony to bouncing. “Come on, pretty thing, come for me.”

Tony can feel Bucky’s knot catching on his rim with every rocking motion of his body now. It pops out of him as he raises himself up on his knees, back in when he slams himself down. It feels good— _amazing_ , really, and he wants so badly to feel that swell in him when he comes so he thrusts down on Bucky’s cock faster, harder, until he’s nearly screaming with pleasure.

“Alpha, _please_ , with me,” he pleads, tears springing to his eyes from how _good_ it feels. Bucky growls again, sits up, pulling Tony tight into his chest as he bites Tony’s bonding mark one more time.

And Tony comes with a cry as Bucky’s knot locks inside his rim. Sparks shoot off as he squeezes his eyes shut. His little cock jerks as he spills on Bucky’s stomach. If this is what all those writers have been talking about for all these years, then he feels robbed. He definitely would have done this sooner if he’d known this was what was waiting for him.

“Love you, alpha,” he pants and he feels Bucky smile against the side of his head.

“Love you too, pretty thing.”

* * *

Tony is putting the last touches on a light lunch when he hears Red Star’s unusual gait sounding up the trail leading to the house. He heads out onto the porch, shielding his eyes from the late summer sun. Sure enough, Bucky is riding up. Tony waves at him, goes back inside to grab the basket, and then comes back out just as Bucky is pulling Red Star to a stop.

“Hey there, pretty thing!” Bucky says. He leans down from the horse just enough for Tony, on the porch, to stand on his toes to give him a kiss.

“Any word on when the cowboys will be back?” Tony asks.

“Any day now. Why, Sharon getting antsy?”

Tony glances back toward the house. He can’t see Sharon at the moment but she’s been spending a lot of time over the last two and a half months moping around the house because apparently, pregnancy brain is a bitch to deal with. Tony hasn’t told Bucky yet but he’s pretty sure that fairly soon, he’ll know from experience just how much havoc a pregnancy can wreak on an omega.

“Was wondering how you felt about a ride?” Tony asks. “Ride out to the pond maybe, have a late lunch?”

“Late? Pretty thing, it’s still early in the day.”

Tony winks at him. “Well, I figure if we get a little distracted…”

“Sounds absolutely perfect,” Bucky says hastily.

Tony chuckles and passes his alpha the lunch basket before setting off for the barn, putting an extra sashay in his step, knowing that Bucky will follow right behind him. Within seconds, he hears Bucky swinging down from the horse and his heavy footsteps chasing after him. Tony laughs loudly and breaks into a sprint.

Bucky catches him only a few steps later, spinning Tony with a hand on his hip. Tony tips into him, looping his arms around Bucky’s neck as his alpha brings him up into a thorough, _perfect_ kiss.

“Come on, alpha,” he murmurs against Bucky’s lips. “We’re supposed to be going on an adventure.”

“Hmm, got all the adventure I need right here.”

And, well, it isn’t like Bucky is wrong. This might not be the adventure he was expecting, Tony decides, but this adventure is so much better than he could have ever dreamed.


End file.
